by Jamie Knight
Man up, I tell myself. Don’t be a pushover.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, grabbing hold of the door and getting ready to shut it.
“Please, Wesley,” she pleads, her eyes full of tears. “I’m really sorry. I just want to talk to you. To explain some things to you like I should have done a long time ago.”
“You know you’ve ruined everything we had, right?” I ask her. “Our relationship. Our living arrangements. Our work arrangements.”
“I know,” she says. “And I’m not asking for them back. I don’t want the money. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to apologize and explain.”
Well, I guess that’s the least she could do.
I open the door all the way and say, “Come in, I guess. But I don’t have long.”
“Thank you!” she says.
Then, we sit down on the couch, with Carrie in between us, resting a paw on each of our legs as if she wants us to make up and come back together again. And Mariah tells me everything. Every little heartbreaking detail about her dad and his plan to marry her off to the creepy Charles guy, and how even after she did what he thought she couldn’t do, he still wouldn’t honor the deal.
I try hard to stay mad at her, because it’s all rather fucked up. But I also realize it must have been tremendously hard to grow up in the shadow of that kind of father, and to do whatever you think is necessary to try to impress him. I had that same kind of issue with my own father, and I know what that pressure can make people do.
“I really wasn’t using you just to sell the house or anything like that,” Mariah says, her lip quivering. “I was very glad for all the opportunity you gave me. I even imagined us working together in the future, instead of me having to grovel to my dad. And I really was in love with you.”
She puts a hand over her mouth, as if she hadn’t meant to say that last part. Neither of us had ever said it. I love you.
I’ve felt it, and I have felt that she’s felt it, too. But after all those talks of how we shouldn’t be together, and how we had to make sure our relationship remains a secret, I guess both of us were afraid to open up and admit it.
“I still am in love with you,” I confess.
In a split second, she’s leaned over Carrie and wrapped her arms around me. I hug her back, deciding that if I’m being a fool, then I’ll be a fool all the way, until the bitter end. But, I don’t think I’m being a fool. I’ve always known that there was something between us, and now I know it’s even bigger than I thought.
“There’s one other thing I have to tell you,” she says, and takes a deep breath.
What else could there possibly be?
“This part is really crazy, and I know it might really hurt us professionally, but someone who has become a friend to me has told me that honesty is always the best policy, so I figure I should just come out with it, and that I shouldn’t have ever even kept it from you.”
Suddenly, I know what she’s going to tell me. It has to do with how she got sick at her celebratory office party. And why she didn’t want even a sip of champagne. And it explains the missing piece of the puzzle – why she ran away and didn’t come into the office until it was time for the closing, plus, the reason she thought she had to quit.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask her, at the same time she starts to say, “I’m pregnant.”
“How did you know?” she asks, pulling her head back from me a little bit and looking amazed.
I place my hand on her stomach. “It just all seems to fall into place now.”
“It does, does it?” she asks.
“And I want our lives to fall into place, too,” I tell her. “Thank you for coming here to talk to me. I know it wasn’t easy and took some bravery on your part. And I want to promise you that no matter what happens, I’ll be here for you and the baby. I’ll make sure you both have the best life imaginable. I won’t ever make it conditional, with strings attached, like your dad always has. I’ll keep my word to you, and be honest with you, and you do the same for me, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, leaning her head into my chest. I bend down to kiss her, but Carrie gets in the way, squishing her face between us and lapping both of us with her big tongue.
“It looks like someone is very happy about this arrangement,” I say, petting Carrie.
“That makes three of us,” Mariah says.
I place my hand back on her stomach, excited for the baby to grow so I can feel her or him kick. “You mean four.”
Epilogue
Mariah
Six months later, I’m marrying the love of my life. I was so happy when he told me that he’d give me another chance and that he’d always be here for the baby and me. We returned to the office and let everyone know we were together. Now that Kirsty was gone, no one really cared – and the board members were just happy to hear that it was consensual and that we were getting married.
That’s right – he proposed to me, that very night. And I told him of course I’ll marry him.
Now, I walk down the aisle to meet him as he stands and waits for me under the altar. My dad isn’t here – I didn’t ask him to be. I haven’t heard a word from him and don’t expect to. But that’s okay because I have Wesley. And we have our business, together. I’ve been working as a senior realtor and closing so many deals that they’re going to make me a partner soon. I know that one day Wesley and I will own it all – not just as husband and wife, but as equal partners and owners in the business. But I want to earn it the old fashioned way.
Kristy isn’t around to accuse me of anything, but no one can say I slept – or married, or inherited – my way to the top of this company. Everyone has seen me there working late, even sleeping on that couch sometimes out of sheer exhaustion – and closing deals.
Wesley’s mom is among our guests, as his Aunt Shelley of course. She’s ecstatic that we’re getting married, and tells me she always knew we were meant to be, from the first moment she saw me. I’m glad I have such great support from his family, because I don’t really have any from my own. But, I do have friends here, who have become like family. Sterling and Elle wave at me from the front row, beaming at the sight of me in my wedding dress, which was specifically tailored to float right over my baby bump.
Wesley and I had decided to get married before I have the baby, but wait until after the baby arrives and is a bit older to go on our honeymoon. I want to drink some alcoholic beverages on a Caribbean beach, after all.
When I take my place in front of Wesley, I notice that a slight tear is running down his cheek. “You look beautiful, my wife,” he whispers to me.
The pastor starts the ceremony, and when it comes time to say our vows, which we wrote ourselves, neither of us has ever been more honest in our lives.
“I promise to tell you the truth, always,” I tell him. “To not let any secret come between us. To let you into every part of my life.”
“And I promise to stand by your side always,” he says, “To live with you, work with you, parent with you. To respect you, to protect you, and to honor you always.”
We dance with our guests until late into the night. And then later, in our honeymoon suite at the hotel where we had the wedding, he picks me – and my baby bump – up and carries us through the door.
“Look at my strong man, picking me up like that,” I laugh.
“Oh please,” he says. “That was nothing. Plus, I want to ravish you.”
“Ravish me?” I ask him. “Didn’t you just vow to respect me always?”
“I respect your curves,” he says. “And I respect your wet pussy by sliding my cock into it.”
“Is that so?” I ask him, as he struggles to undo the lacy tie on the back of my dress.
He bends me over the bed and takes me from behind, just like I love to feel him do. And now, he can cum in me without us having to worry about anything. He spreads my ass cheeks wide and sticks his finger into my pussy.
“You’re so wet for your hu
sband,” he says, rubbing the slick juices between his fingers.
“I sure am,” I agree.
He spanks my ass, but not too hard – he’s been gentler ever since he’s found out I’m pregnant, although he tells me that after the baby arrives and I’ve had time to heal, he’s going to take my anal virginity just like he took my regular virginity.
He thrusts his cock inside me and says, “What a bad girl you are. Letting me spank you and fuck you.”
“I’m your bad girl,” I tell him. “Your bad wife.”
“And I’m still your boss, for the next couple years or so,” he says, as he thrusts in and out of me. He reaches around to play with my clit while he fucks me. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Yes, sir,” I tell him, as he holds onto my hips and moves me front to back while his cock has his way with my pussy. “Yes, boss.”
When he starts to play with my sensitive nipples, I lose my mind, crying out “Oh, my God, Wesley, I’m cumming,” as I let the wave of a powerful orgasm wash over my entire body.
“Cum for your husband,” he commands me. “For your boss. Cum all over my cock.”
As I’m doing so, I feel his cock pulsing and throbbing as he, too, cums in me. He shoots his load inside me, filling me up with his warm cum.
“Holy shit,” he says, taking his cock out of me and pausing, with an arm on the bed. But with his other hand, he rubs his cock around my pussy and ass, saying, “I left such a cream pie in your pussy. I can’t wait to put one in your ass, after the baby gets here.”
“I can’t wait until you do that either,” I say.
He picks me up and carries me onto the bed, where he wraps his strong arms around me and gives me a kiss goodnight, on our wedding night.
“Good night, my wife. I love you.”
“Good night, my husband. I love you too.”
THE END
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Sneak Peek of My Father’s Best Friend Secret Baby
Prologue
Bradley
I shouldn’t have been doing this. Shouldn’t have these thoughts about James’s daughter.
But, she was so damn hot. And she had been practically throwing herself at me. Those hips, those lips, those eyes… it was as if she was begging me to do what I wanted, which was to bend her over my lap and spank her ass for being such a bad girl, and then thrust my dick deep inside her mouth.
Her father James was the only good friend I had these days, and he had been ever since I so desperately needed one. After I was injured at war and discharged from duty, he’d taken me to his house and let me stay with him even though he had only been my commanding officer. We’d grown close, both due to the gratefulness I’d felt for him and the bond we’d shared as he’d helped me get back on my feet.
Fucking his daughter was no way to repay him for his kindness— even though it was clear she wanted me to take her for her very first time. Sure, she was an adult and seemed to know exactly what she wanted— which was very obviously me. And I wanted to take her— every which way I could.
From behind, while she was on all fours calling out my name and I was pulling her hair. From on top, while I was looking into those pretty eyes she liked to bat so innocently at me. From underneath her, so that she could spread those legs wide and let me all the way into her tiny, tight, wet little pussy.
I couldn’t do it. Could I? It could have all sorts of negative consequences. James would no doubt kick me out of his house. And what if I knocked her up? She had her whole life ahead of her, and mine had just been unexpectedly derailed.
I had to fucking control myself. But could I? Not with those curvy hips of hers walking in front of me, while she was dressed only in her bikini, begging me to come for a swim with her. Swim with her? I wanted to swim in her. And I always got what I wanted.
Chapter 1
Bradley
“Hope the chicken isn't too spicy for you,” said James, looking over at me while I absentmindedly scraped my food around on my plate. I was so lost in thought, I almost forgot where I was.
I was still trying to process everything. So much had happened. I knew that, all things considered, I was very lucky. Too bad that lucky felt so fucking shitty.
I shifted in my chair to try to relieve some of the pressure from my hip. I winced at a sharp pain shooting from my toes up my leg.
I had been an aircraft mechanic in the Air Force for about eighteen years. Some people have looked at that as “not shit” since I wasn't in direct combat much, but for me, it let me do what I loved while still serving our country.
I was a self-taught mechanic, learning everything I knew as a young kid working on the cars of friends, family, neighbors, basically anyone within a ten-mile radius who would let me near their car. People would remark with amazement when their car was fixed using little or no parts, and drove better than it had before it needed work done on it. News traveled fast about the teenage boy who could fix cars and did it for next to nothing, sometimes even for free.
I vividly remember a lady walking up to my house, looking nervous and afraid.
“B-Br-Brad?” she asked quietly.
“'Yeah,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Wringing her hands and glancing around nervously, she continued, but in a language I did not understand. It wasn’t Spanish or French or any of the languages I’d heard in school. Might’ve been Hungarian.
“I’m sorry, ma’am…” I remember extending out my hand slowly, with caution.
She was so scared. It was then I realized her body was wrapped in some unusual garment I’d never seen before. I couldn’t tell if it was one of those fashionista things or one of those National Geographic things. The sadness in her eyes touched my heart.
“C-Caaar? Car? Help?” she asked in an unsure voice.
“Sure, I'll help you. Let me give you a ride to wherever your car is.”
As I said it, I made a motion with one of my arms as if I was using a steering wheel to drive, while gesturing at her with my other arm to come with me. She understood what I was saying and lit up right away, smiling.
We drove the mile to where her car was and I saw what was wrong right away. Her car had overheated and needed coolant. I drove her over to the gas station and she bought some. I put it in her car, had her start the car, and after a few minutes, her engine sounded better and she was ready to go.
“Tank you,” she said, bowing her head deeply, holding my teenaged hand between her two hands, clasped as if in prayer.
“You're welcome.”
She looked up into my eyes, hers welling with emotion. “God… God repay you,” she said.
“It's okay. Really. I'm just glad that I could help,” I told her.
I saw two car seats in the back of her car and wondered where her children were. I didn't bother asking her. But, I was happy that I could help.
That was when I realized that my interest in being a mechanic was more than just a hobby. I wanted to make it my profession.
I worked hard and put myself through trade school, paying for it by working at a fast food joint. Those were long, hard days, going to school during the day and working at night. Sheer will got me through those nights when the restaurant was slow.
But, I knew that if I had any hopes of doing anything with my life, I would have to keep going. I came from a dirt-poor family. Most of them had barely gotten through grade school, let alone had any
real profession to speak of.
So, when I graduated from trade school as a mechanic, I felt like I was on top of the fucking world. Unfortunately, though, there weren't very many opportunities in the town where I lived. And I didn’t have the money to pack up and move.
When an Air Force recruiter came around and asked if I wanted to join, I signed up right away. I knew that this was it—my ticket to freedom.
And I was right. Being a mechanic in the Air Force opened my eyes to a whole new world. Honestly, it was an entirely new level of existence. I never even knew anyone who worked that hard, with focus, in order to accomplish—and to be accomplished—as the guys in my unit did.
I’d kind of always been a bit of a daredevil. I just couldn’t “keep my booty still,” as my old great-aunt Birdie diagnosed at my fifteenth birthday party. (It was a great time—we were jumping off the roof into a kiddie pool filled high with shredded foam from a mattress I’d ripped up by hand.) I didn’t like trouble, you see, I just had a nose for action—a thrill for the outdoors, that sort of thing.
So when I discovered that I had this natural bent for fixing things, I was so excited. I was also relieved—my brain could be the one making me a living, not my brawn or bravado. I mean, sure, being a mechanic involved using my hands and muscles, too, but working on planes also involved figuring out problems and thinking about the best way to fix things.
This new direction of mine was a major step up for my family. It meant I might live to see old age, unlike practically every male in my bloodline.
Plus, none of us had ever served our country in the Armed Forces. Me joining up was an even bigger step forward for us. For me personally, joining up meant my freewheeling, garage experiment antics might have a constructive, positive outlet while I learned more skills and grew in my abilities.
More, I completely relished the traveling part of Air Force life. Mercy, the world had never seemed so big. Or beautiful, honestly.